Like Father, Like Son
by Phoenix Belfalas
Summary: Third in a series of short vignettes, ‘Bad Faith’, in which Severus duels with the two Malfoys, literally and figuratively, and reflects on how alike they are. Warning - Slash.


Title - Like Father, Like Son  
  
Authoress - Phoenix Tears  
  
Summary - Third in a series of short vignettes, 'Bad Faith', in which  
Severus duels with the two Malfoys, literally and figuratively, and  
reflects on how alike they are.  
  
Rating - R. Some inappropriate thoughts and sights on Severus' behalf.  
  
Warning - Slash. Don't like - don't read.  
  
Disclaimer - I own nothing, except for this plot. Everything else  
belongs to J.K. Rowling, including Draco, Lucius, Blaise, and Severus.  
  
Feedback - Of course, as for every writer, questions, thoughts, and  
constructive criticism are all greatly appreciated. Thank you, and  
enjoy.  
  
~*~  
  
Oh, god. Why does he have to be Lucius?  
  
If it was anyone else, I would be all over him.  
  
But because he is Lucius Malfoy, and I am Severus Snape, I'm afraid that being all over him wouldn't be a very viable option.  
  
He looks fucking, drop-dead gorgeous in his attire. Lucius has shed his outer robe and is wearing nothing more than a plain, filmy white polo shirt and form-fitting black trousers. With his platinum blonde hair tied back with black velvet ribbon, his Malfoyian silver eyes flash with exhilaration and excitement.  
  
I can see his muscular torso under the shirt, and the gauzy material sticks to his skin from sweat. I chastise myself and try to remember to concentrate on the duelling, not Lucius' stunning physique.  
  
He would curse me in an instant, anyway, if I showed any sign or inclination that I desired him. But then again, who wouldn't desire Lucius?  
  
Even Draco admires his father so much that it is reprehensibly devoted to see. Lucius shows so much paternal love towards his son that, sometimes, it makes me wonder how hard it is to hide under that Malfoyian mask.  
  
He's there, I'm here, Draco's on the sidelines. I am duelling with Voldemort's best duellist, and he is duelling with Hogwart's best Potions Master. I know I will lose.  
  
I've always lost against Lucius - be it with popularity, looks, wealth. The only thing I have been better than him at was Potions, but Lucius' academic talent exceeded me in all other subjects. Even our Head of House, Professor Pullet, favoured Lucius beyond measures. I was merely another one of his House students, nothing more.  
  
I am duelling him with a sword - a silver aluminum blade with an expensive onyx and white gold hilt - in one of the many domed fighting halls at Malfoy Manor. Draco looks on with an interested expression - I can only tell by his flashing silver eyes - but his posture is one of casual indifference. Bloody Malfoys - always have to have their cool, composed mask in place. Lucius shows no sign of exertion either, though I'm sweating profusely. I can barely dodge his blade in time, and it slices through a lock of my hair.  
  
Neatly.  
  
Lucius has won, and I surrender victory to him graciously. Draco smiles and is clapping politely for both sides, and his eyes show admiration for both Lucius and me.  
  
Flashing a dazzling Veela smile at me, Lucius bows gracefully and accepts victory over me. He walks over to his son, wrapping a protective arm around Draco's shoulders and handing an emerald-encrusted sword to him. Draco smirks and receives it courteously, twirling it by the hilt expertly. He has a predatory gleam in his cunning eyes, and Lucius gives his son a kiss on the forehead.  
  
This is quite hard to do, as Draco is nearing seventeen and already in his seventh year at Hogwarts. He is almost the same height as Lucius, though not of the same physique. Whereas Lucius is strong and well built, showing the signs of manhood, Draco is lean and strong, showing the signs of adolescence and the training of a light-built Seeker.  
  
Must. Keep. Concentration. Damn!  
  
How does either Lucius or Draco expect me to give them my best fight when they both have to look so damn sexy and attractive?!  
  
Draco ends up defeating me even more quickly than Lucius. The latter raises an eyebrow; the former merely smirks and bows elegantly. Draco - damn his perfect body - says in a silky voice to his Daddy-dearest, "I think Professor Snape here isn't feeling quite well today. Perhaps we should continue this another day, Father?"  
  
Lucius walks over to his son, Basilisk hide shoes clicking against the marbled tile of the duelling hall. "Of course, Draco. Go and practice on the new broom I gave you. I'm sure it will need a bit of riding for you to get used to it," Lucius said in a fond voice. Draco nodded and placed the sword in a sheathe, all but running off to go and try his new riding broom. Swords in sheathes, and riding brooms. Damn my train of thought.  
  
Don't. Think. About. Riding. Brooms. Sword. Sheathe. Fuck. Sex. Damnit!  
  
How delicious and tight and sweet Draco must be. I wonder if he is a virgin. Considering that he is a Malfoy, as well as the boy that all students of Hogwarts drool over, I highly doubt it. Perhaps he is a virgin in the sense that he doesn't take it up the ass.  
  
Lucius, on the other hand, is probably more fierce and passionate and dominant. He is always in control - in politics, in society, etc. - so why not in bed, as well?  
  
I remember once - only once - after Lucius had been initiated into the Death Eater's ranks, he was having nightmares. I was a fellow Slytherin prefect, and we shared the same House common room in the prefect's dorms, so I had access to his bedrooms. I heard him shrieking, wraith-like, in his sleep, his normally perfect silken blonde hair now mussed all over the pillow, and he was writhing on the green sheets of the bed.  
  
What I would have given, at that time, to be his bed.  
  
He was shouting, and I was thankful for the thick walls of Hogwarts. How Lucius would be ashamed if the Ravenclaw prefects in the adjacent rooms heard him screaming.  
  
I cast a Silencing Charm around his bed and sat down in the black leather seat next to him. Smoothing out his hair, I massaged his scalp and placed small butterfly kisses along his palm and wrist. Lucius soon stopped his nightmare, and his breathing was even and showed signs of slumber. Half an hour later, I left his room and went into the bathroom to wank off. Even giving Lucius a good smoothing down and massage made me aroused. How pathetic was I?  
  
Lucius would never go for an ugly, lonely creature like me.  
  
He was exquisite - lustrous silver gold locks that fell, smooth as silk, to his shoulders, prominent cheekbones, moonlight pale skin, and piercing, beautiful silver eyes.  
  
I was revolting - drab black hair that was too oily for its own good, sunken features of my face, sallow, wan skintones, and emotionless, black- as-coal eyes.  
  
Lucius said I looked like a lethal vampire. I thought I looked positively frightful.  
  
I was a friend, a Housemate, a confidant to the prince of Slytherin. Nothing more. He never knew how much it hurt when he wrapped a friendly arm around my shoulders and laughed at his own jokes, or when he threw me secretive, assuring glances during Transfiguration with the Gryffindors, or when he showed so much concern when I had been taunted by Sirius Black and James Potter.  
  
The two Marauders were sprouting pink and green highlighted hair that refused to wash off for the rest of the week. Remus Lupin spent all his days in the library trying to find a way to restore his friends' hair colour back to normal, but to no avail.  
  
And now, after we have graduated and I took up the post as Hogwart's Potions Professor, there is a younger Malfoy to deal with, and he is no less seductive, beautiful, or perfect than his father.  
  
Like father, like son, I would say to Draco. He assumed I was talking about his academic grades - which were absolutely flawless, might I add, he is top in Potions, Arithmancy, and Muggle Defence - or, perhaps, his Quidditch skills.  
  
I am talking about his erotica and allure. He doesn't know that. Lucius does. The elder Malfoy is far too calculating for his own good; the younger is far too proud.  
  
It goes to show that Malfoys do have some flaws, after all, though not bad.  
  
Draco, just like Lucius, is the object of everyone's desire at Hogwarts. The Veela magnetism charms really do get oneself in trouble, sometimes.  
  
I would not be surprised if the younger Malfoy has bedded all the fifth years and above. I try not to notice, and I am indifferent to his choice of partners, as he never truly holds a relationship for long. Attachments are far too messy and complicated, as I have learned. However, what irks me is that Draco has a penchant for performing his sexual endeavours in my Potions classroom.  
  
On the tables, in chairs, even on MY desk, once.  
  
I found it strangely erotic, to know that Lucius' son was fucking people like rabbits in MY classroom, on MY desk.  
  
Have I mentioned that I was pathetic?  
  
It seems that, now, Mr. Blaise Zabini is the newfound object of Draco's attraction. I had always known that Draco and Blaise have been exceptionally close friends, but when I was on my nightly rounds to check if, once again, Draco was in my classroom, I spotted him and Blaise in a very compromising position.  
  
Thankfully, neither of them could see me.  
  
Blaise was far too busy sucking Draco's cock and mewling around it. He seemed to be having a far too good time at it, might I add.  
  
Draco was in complete bliss - his eyes were shut, and sinfully long, dark silver lashes were laid against his sweaty pale skin. His pale, creamy neck was thrown back at a graceful arch in ecstasy. It must be a crime to look as beautiful as a Malfoy does, even when experiencing immense pleasure or pain.  
  
I knew that this little interlude between my two favourite students was different to Draco. From the gentle way that Draco massaged Blaise's pelvic area as he entered him, slowly and gently, from the way that Draco stayed behind with Blaise, when he would usually leave his partners right after, from the way that Draco ever-so-gently redressed himself and Blaise and tucked them under his Invisibility Cloak, and went back to the Prefects' Dormitories.  
  
Neither of them had noticed me, lurking in the shadows, erection hard and wanton.  
  
However, three months after Yule Break and that sword duel with the two Malfoys at the Manor - I had gone with Draco and spent the entire Christmas vacation as a guest in Malfoy Manor - something happened that reminded me of my Hogwarts years, when I had once comforted one Lucius Malfoy when he was having a terrible nightmare.  
  
I hate déjà vu.  
  
It was a Hogsmeade Saturday, and most of the fourth and upper year students were away in the wizarding town. I, of course, being a Professor, stayed behind. After all classes were done, and dinner was over, I went into my office and was reading a Potions Text on aftereffects of certain tonics and brews.  
  
Then came Draco, stumbling into my office - he knew the password, I had given it to him in case he needed to 'talk' - and clearly drunk. He still had the habituated grace of the Malfoys, but he was not walking in a straight line. His pale cheeks were flushed and his silver eyes were diluted with alcohol.  
  
He was slurring deliciously, outer black robe thrown over an arm with casual style, green and silver Slytherin tie now unknotted and the first few buttons of his white polo shirt unbuttoned, revealing milky pale skin beneath.  
  
Not speaking properly, he recounted how he had found Blaise Zabini in the Shrieking Shack. Moreover, Zabini was with a certain Miss Pansy Parkinson, and they were engaged in sexual activities. The moment Blaise saw Draco, he started to get up, but Pansy, smirking at Draco, restrained him and started to trail lovebites down Blaise's neck.  
  
Blaise and Draco stood transfixed, and then Draco, in a blinding fury of rage, cast the Petrificus Totalus hex on both of them, freezing their moment. He stormed away from the Shack, almost bumping into Harry Potter - with his black mutt - along the way, and smirked at the thought of the famous Boy-Who-Lived coming across his former boyfriend and Parkinson. He bought himself some strong tequila at the Three Broomsticks, and here he was at my office, barely two hours later.  
  
One look at my disheveled - oh, but gorgeously, erotically so - student, I walked out of my office and retrieved some Sobriety Tonic. It would not do for the prince of our House to be in his House professor's office, looking as if he had just walked out of some Muggle prostitution facility. No, no, not at all.  
  
I inquired if he was all right, and Draco, feeling the Sobriety Tonic kick in, lazily sat himself down in MY leather chair and tugged off his tie. He apologized for his previous, possibly inappropriate behavior - I assured him he did not do anything he would regret - and started to smooth out his appearance. Ever the Malfoy, I see.  
  
Then he suddenly remembered the little interlude with Zabini and Parkinson, and his slate silver eyes hardened, lines of his sharply sculpted face going rigid. I, sensing the famous Malfoy tirade and rage about to come on, gathered him in my arms and soothed his feelings, comforting him that Zabini would surely be out of his mind to prefer Miss Parkinson over him.  
  
I hugged him - usually, I am not one for sentimental emotions - and, surprisingly, he embraced me back, burying his face into the crook of my neck. No, he wasn't crying, Malfoys do not cry. It is a sign of weakness, I had learned from Lucius.  
  
Setting both of us down into my chair, I wrapped my arms around his lithe frame and stroked his back. Draco sighed and curled into a fetal position in my lap, squirming a bit before falling asleep. His even, deep breathing and parted lips convinced me of his slumber. Soon after, I fell asleep, dreaming of quicksilver eyes and platinum blonde hair.  
  
I remembered the only other time a Malfoy had allowed me to comfort him was when he was having nightmares.  
  
The second-ever time a Malfoy had allowed me to comfort him was when he was heartbroken and barely aware of his surroundings.  
  
Oh, how much Draco is like Lucius.  
  
Like father, like son.  
  
~*~  
  
Authoress' Note: I am planning for the next vignette to be from  
Blaise's point of view. just so we can give him a chance to tell his  
side of the story. And please, don't get all upset at Blaise for  
cheating on Draco. All will be revealed in the next vignette. However,  
feel free to curse and hex Miss Parkinson all you want. ^________^  
Reviews, as always, are greatly appreciated! 


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